Shadow Sister (26 page)

Out in the courtyard, Jilong was pacing back and forth. He was exhausted too, and angry, which Tao was sure was a bad combination. The warlord marched over and poked Fo Tu Deng in his scrawny chest.

“I need something else from you, seer.” He snarled the word like an insult. “If I don’t find the Black Camel Bandits tonight, by this time tomorrow you will be dead. They are close. They kill my men, and yet I have not seen a single one of them. Where do they hide? It is a simple request. That is all I need to know from you. I can do the rest. Prove to me that you really are a seer and not a fraud.”

Jilong took a few steps towards his quarters and then turned back.

“And my mother has decided she likes this place and wants to make it her home. If you survive the night, you and your assistant will be moved to Luoyang.”

Tao certainly didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to go back to Luoyang either, but it was the thought of Lady Wang taking over his family home that finally strengthened his resolve.

He spoke to Kai with his mind. “It’s time to reclaim our freedom.”

Fo Tu Deng hopped about, insisting that Tao have a vision immediately.

Kai came into the courtyard. “You may as well,” he said. “If we are going to escape the clutches of the Zhao, we could use some advice.”

Tao was so tired, this time he really did need to prepare himself to find the mental energy to concentrate and seek a vision. He sat cross-legged and recited a sutra. Then he smeared the oil on his hands and stared at them. He could see nothing. Lady Wang was shouting at her servants somewhere in the house. The men were arguing over whose fault it was that they hadn’t found a single bandit. Someone building temporary stables was hammering. Tao needed peace and quiet. He tried to picture a tranquil scene – a view from a mountain, a lake, a garden in summer – but his mind wouldn’t focus. He concentrated on the birdsong and the buzzing of insects, but that made him drowsier still.

A slap across the face woke him. He’d fallen asleep and Fo Tu Deng was standing over him.

“A messenger from Shi Le has arrived. Whatever was in the message has put Jilong in a worse mood. He’s gone to rest. I must have something to tell him when he wakes.”

“It’s no good,” Tao said. “I can’t do it.”

“You have to or we’ll both die,” Fo Tu Deng said.

“I want to summon a vision as much as you do,” Tao said. “But I can’t. I haven’t got the energy or the concentration. I must sleep. Just for an hour or two.”

Fo Tu Deng reluctantly agreed. Tao went back to Wei’s room, only to find some men carrying the bed out through the door.

“Where are you going with my bed?”

“Lady Wang wants it out of the room,” one of them replied.

Inside he could see Lady Wang sitting on his mother’s favourite chair. Her servants were fussing around her, applying cosmetics to her jowly cheeks and sagging eyes, and trying to comb the knots out of her coarse hair.

“Go away, boy,” she said. “This is my dressing room now.”

Tao grabbed the quilt from the bed as the men passed him.

Kai found an empty farmer’s hut and Tao didn’t object as the dragon made him a bed of straw on the earthen floor. Tao collapsed into it and felt Kai spread the quilt over him. He breathed in the familiar and much-loved smell and sank into the open embrace of sleep, like a baby in its mother’s arms. He didn’t really care if he never awoke.

Tao did wake, about an hour before midday. It was a pleasant sunny day and there was no noise from the compound to disturb the peace. The nomads were all sleeping, and fortunately so was Jilong. The few hours sleep had refreshed Tao. Kai was curled up next to him, breathing evenly, his snout buried under his tail. Tao got up and crept out of the hut so as not to wake him.

He was surprised that Fo Tu Deng hadn’t woken him earlier, but one of the guards told him that Lady Wang had wanted to be carried out in a palanquin to admire the autumn leaves in the orchard, and she had insisted that Fo Tu Deng escort her.

Tao made himself some rice porridge and took it out to the peony pavilion. He had the garden to himself. He could see where the earth had been disturbed to dig Baoyu’s grave and that some of the plants were in different positions, but the Zhao had no interest in gardening and he was sure they wouldn’t notice.

Tao needed to seek another vision. He had some time before the men woke and started preparing food. But Lady Wang would return soon and Jilong could wake at any moment. Once that happened this peaceful state of mind would desert him. The guards on the wall had their heads together, leaning over a game of
liubo
, so Tao was able to wriggle out through the tunnel and run into the fields without anyone noticing. Once outside, he heard a flapping sound and felt a current of air. Sunila materialised. He had flown over the walls while invisible.

“You can come with me,” Tao said, “but you must behave.”

He knew exactly where he wanted to go. He gave the orchard a wide berth and walked to the stream. He sat on the grass. It was the spot where he had come with Wei and Kai and Pema. The sun warmed his back. The willow tree had lost all its leaves, but its naked branches trailed in the river. He sat with his back against the trunk and stared up into the branches. He could make out the bird’s nest where Pema had restored a baby bird to its family. The nest was abandoned. The birds would have flown to somewhere warmer.

The
naga
waded into the water and splashed around. Tao’s duties were pulling him in different directions. He had to be useful to Kai, to keep an eye on Sunila, to ensure that Baoyu was content, and there was a vaguer sense of duty to his family and the memory of Wei. Then there was Pema. If only he’d been able to convince her to live a simple life somewhere out of danger. And while he was trying to achieve all these impossible things, he had to live like a good Buddhist.

Near where he was sitting, the river was disturbed by a scatter of rocks in its path and it changed from quiet and serious to cheerfully foamy as it rushed around the rocks, before settling down to continue more sedately on its way. He poured a few drops of oil on his hands and carefully rubbed them together to distribute the oil evenly. He felt so peaceful it wasn’t necessary to recite any sutras. He remembered the last time he had sat on that riverbank. It seemed like such a long time ago. The image of Wei, still alive and smiling, and of Pema splashing in the shallows as Kai taught her to fish, made him realise that day had been one of the happiest of his life. His eyes filled with tears, not from sadness or regret, but from gratitude that he had been fortunate enough to have those precious minutes, before the chaos of the world intruded. He put his hands together. The tears blurred his sight as required.

Solitude and inner peace were the perfect conditions for receiving a vision, and yet no vision came. Tao couldn’t understand it. He had been drawn to this place and his mind was completely focused on the task. He had brought the shard of dragon stone with him in case it could enhance his visions somehow. His finger felt the new chip, but it was the cool smoothness of the rounded edges that he loved to touch. He had always been drawn to the shard, ever since his great-grandfather gave it to him – long before he met Kai. He placed it in his lap and tried again for a vision. Nothing happened.

Tao felt the knot of
qi
inside him, solid and unmoving. When he’d tried to explain the sensation to Kai, the dragon said it sounded like indigestion. But it wasn’t painful or uncomfortable. It was part of his beloved brother. It was beyond words. He began to understand the connection between the
qi
and the shard. The characteristics of a dragonkeeper had been passed down from the Huan ancestors in equal measure to Tao and Wei. The brothers were the same in every way, or at least they had been until the moment of Wei’s birth. Alone, neither of them could have been a dragonkeeper, but together they could. It wasn’t until Wei had poured his
qi
into Tao that the skills of a dragonkeeper had woken inside him.

The
qi
began to stir. The shard was awakening it. It was a wonderful feeling, like warmth from a fire, the touch of a loved one, and a smile all merged together. He felt the
qi
power within him, but still didn’t know how it would manifest.

Dragonflies that hovered over the river flew towards him. Beetles and slaters gathered around his feet. Spiders dangled from trees. Worms appeared. All the
wuji
, were drawn to him as if to witness the awakening of his
qi
power. It was his connection to these small creatures. He couldn’t deny it, but how this ability could serve any useful purpose, he didn’t know.

There was something else. Tao could feel another power stir within him. The knot of
qi
seemed to unravel. It didn’t snake along his arms and try to burst out of him. It spread from his heart and found its way into his mind. He heard a sound, nothing more than a whisper. He held the shard with both hands; the voice became clearer. It was coming from inside himself, but it was not his own voice, not that inner voice that berated him if he didn’t try hard enough, or if he was forgetful or clumsy. It was another voice – gentle, reassuring – one he had never heard before, and yet was so familiar to him. The voice didn’t use any language spoken by mouth. It was wordless, not heard but experienced. It spoke in emotions, sadness and joy together. It was Wei. His brother was speaking to him. Not from his next life. Tao had no connection to that new version of his brother, whoever and wherever he was. This was something that remained of the old Wei, his unique and silent empathy. Tao had been able to understand it when Wei was alive and he could understand it now. He could translate this inner language, as he could translate Sanskrit into Huaxia or Kai’s sounds into words.

You are the dragonkeeper
, the voice was saying.
Not for one dragon, but for all
.

“Where have you been?” Fo Tu Deng shouted when Tao wandered back into the courtyard.

The monk had only just returned from his own outing in the countryside with Lady Wang.

“I have been meditating,” Tao said.

“The
naga
is Jilong’s now. You shouldn’t take him out without permission.”

Tao was about to escape to Wei’s room, but he remembered that Lady Wang had taken it over.

“I have chained up your dragon!” Fo Tu Deng’s eyes were blazing with fear and anger. “If you don’t seek a vision immediately, I will fetch extra chains so that he will suffer even more.”

Fo Tu Deng sent for the stableboy and ordered him to chain up the naga as well. Tao tried to appear anguished. He could hear Kai groaning plaintively from the stables, but it wasn’t the sound he made if he was really in pain. Kai and Sunila both had a supply of cinnabar. They were immune to the effects of iron.

“You must seek a vision and tell me how we can find these Black Camel Bandits. Jilong will be awake at any moment.”

Nothing the monk said could disturb the calm that Tao’s communion with Wei had left within him. There was something else too. He felt powerful. Tao couldn’t help smiling.

This infuriated the monk. “How dare you! I will order the chains on the dragons to be doubled!”

Fo Tu Deng turned and found himself face to face with Jilong, who had stepped out from behind the peony pavilion. The monk’s body crumpled. Jilong towered over him, hands on hips. He was a slender young man, but he seemed twice the size of the monk.

“I knew you were a fake. You will regret deceiving me.”

The warlord signalled to the captain of his personal guard. “Shackle the monk in the goat pen.”

The guard hauled the monk away. He whimpered, but didn’t bother to protest.

Jilong walked over to Tao. He had the swaggering gait of a man used to absolute power, a bully who knows he always has at least ten men at his back.

“So, boy,” he said. “You are the one who has the visions.”

Tao wasn’t smiling any more. “Yes, General. But it is not something I have control of. Visions come or don’t come, and often I can’t interpret their meaning.”

“But a vision told you that the Black Camel Bandits hide in darkness during the day and don’t come out until after nightfall?”

“Yes, General.”

He didn’t mention that his visions only served dragons.

“When you have sought a vision for me, I will unshackle your dragon.”

Tao had made so many mistakes since leaving Yinmi. He had wandered around, thinking he could fill his days with boyish adventure with Kai at his side. He had believed that it was his duty as a Buddhist to help everyone in need that he came upon – Pema, the old man, Baoyu. He had wandered like river water flowing around rocks, following the course that required the least effort. The purpose of his life was clear to him at last. He didn’t need a ceremonial mirror to prove it. He was a dragonkeeper. It was his family heritage, taken up for the first time in two hundred years. He felt privileged to be the chosen companion of a dragon, but it had brought responsibilities that he would never have dreamed of when he was a novice.

He couldn’t concern himself with Pema or Baoyu. His duty was to protect the dragons. He should have left the compound earlier, but deep down he knew that wouldn’t have been right. Everything that had happened was part of his journey to this new knowledge. And yet, here he was with his home full of enemies and a Zhao warlord menacing him. He knew his destiny, but he had no map to follow. There were still rocks to negotiate before his life flowed smooth and straight. Each step he had to take was a mystery, but he was beginning to feel confident that he could find the way. He had his brother to help him.

“The Langhai does not like to be kept waiting,” the captain of the guard said.

Tao and the warlord were in agreement about one thing. He needed to seek a vision.

The men were waking and making their usual clamour.

“My vision will be more accurate if I have quiet,” he said.

At a signal from the captain, the Zhao soldiers fell silent.